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Janet was rather puzzled to note that Betty, alone of them all, seemed to look askance at the way Radmore spent his substance in showering fairy-godfather-like gifts on the inmates of Old Place. The happiest of them all was Timmy.
O'Farrell had said anything about a child who might, after all, be regarded as his patient. But Enid Crofton was looking at him very intently, and so he went on: "I've never spoken to any of them about it, but, yes, if you ask me for my honest opinion, I do think the child has very peculiar powers." And then, all at once, Enid Crofton burst into tears. "Timmy terrifies me," she sobbed.
There are some folks you can't pound sense into, and Timmy was one of them. "What have ye got, then?" asked Flannery. "Nawthin' but th' corpse," said Timmy impudently, and Flannery did do it. He swung his big right hand at the lad, and would have taught him something, but Timmy wasn't there. He had dodged. Flannery ground his teeth, and bent over the hand-truck.
He knew he couldn't stay in that fine house because it belonged to Timmy. He knew that as soon as Timmy awoke, he, Whitefoot, would have to get out. Where should he go? He wished he knew. How he did long for the old home he had left. But when he thought of that, he remembered Shadow the Weasel. It was better to be homeless than to feel that at any minute Shadow the Weasel might appear.
The older woman tried to smile. "To tell the truth, Betty, I've had rather a shock. You heard the telephone bell ring?" "You mean some minutes ago?" "Yes." "Who was it?" "Godfrey Radmore, speaking from London." "Is that all? I was afraid that something had happened to Timmy!" But, even so, the colour flamed up into Betty Tosswill's face.
"You have a very smooth tongue, Jimmy Skunk. But what is this matter on which you cannot agree?" "How many animals can fly?" returned Jimmy, by way of answer. "One," replied Grandfather Frog. "I thought everybody knew that. Flitter the Bat is the only animal who can fly." "You forget Timmy, the Flying Squirrel!" cried Peter excitedly. "That makes two." Grandfather Frog shook his head.
"When Timmy and I were last here," he said hurriedly, "there was a child very ill at the lodge. So I think I'd better go and just find how things are." He was hoping with all his heart that the news he would see on the mother's face would be good news. Somehow he felt that it would be of happy augury for himself.
Already the swamp was a vast landscape of small hills and valleys of new, soft soil, and soon it would burst into streets and dwellings. That would mean more work, but Flannery did not care; the company had allowed him a helper already, and Flannery had hopes that by the time the swamp was populated Timmy would be of some use. He doubted it, but he had hopes.
Anyone else might be content with a little innocent butchery, but not you ... you take over children, body and soul!" "No." "What we've been calling Timmy is a secondhand suit of clothes for you! And you claim you're not a monster!" "Nor am I." Phil struggled for violent words to match his feelings, then sighed heavily. "No," he agreed, despite himself. "You are not. I know that.
It had been arranged that the doctor should take Mrs. Crofton home in his car, and that only when she was comfortably in bed should those ugly little wounds be properly dressed. As the doctor was hurrying down the passage into the hall, he was surprised to see Timmy at his elbow and to hear the boy's voice pipe up: "If my cat's not mad, she won't have to be killed, doctor, will she?"
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